Hannibal took to calling Will by his first name the instant they met.
At the time Will figured it was the psychologist in him, attempting to
construct a sense of trust, a familiarity that would allow Will to be
open with him. Since that first meeting the tone Hannibal uses to say
Will's name has only ever slightly varied, and even when Will refused
to call Hannibal anything but Dr. Lecter, Hannibal never stopped
calling him Will. Hannibal's said his name hundreds of times, but it
has never sounded the way he says it now, breathless and caught in
pleasure, broken and completely genuine in emotion.
The sounds of it makes Will's heart clench and skip, and he moans in
sympathy, their hands twining around Will's cock, not even moving just
holding as the rocking of their bodies does all that needs to be done.
Will's wild eyes are locked on Hannibal's as they move together, rough
and erratic, racing toward the edge of their world and eager to plunge
over. Will can see it as it happens, the way Hannibal's face changes,
how he fights to keep his eyes open as his climax closes over him,
dragging him under, the expression splitting across Hannibal's face
the most exquisite thing Will's ever seen.
Will feels the burst of Hannibal's come flooding into him with a
pooling of heat, an added slickness, a stuttering of Hannibal's hips,
and he barely has a chance to take a breath before his own orgasm is
pulled out of him, his cock spasming between his and Hannibal's palms,
his body clenching down around Hannibal's own, still twitching member.
Will's vision flares white like a flash of light, then cascades into
black blotches, his every muscle strung and shaking, Distantly he
hears his own voice, the heavy gasps of his breath and the low, rough
shouts of pleasure. The arm around Hannibal's neck clings tightly as
he starts to sag, exhausted, sated, lost in a sea of overwhelming
satisfaction, unable and unwilling to let go.
no subject
Hannibal took to calling Will by his first name the instant they met. At the time Will figured it was the psychologist in him, attempting to construct a sense of trust, a familiarity that would allow Will to be open with him. Since that first meeting the tone Hannibal uses to say Will's name has only ever slightly varied, and even when Will refused to call Hannibal anything but Dr. Lecter, Hannibal never stopped calling him Will. Hannibal's said his name hundreds of times, but it has never sounded the way he says it now, breathless and caught in pleasure, broken and completely genuine in emotion.
The sounds of it makes Will's heart clench and skip, and he moans in sympathy, their hands twining around Will's cock, not even moving just holding as the rocking of their bodies does all that needs to be done. Will's wild eyes are locked on Hannibal's as they move together, rough and erratic, racing toward the edge of their world and eager to plunge over. Will can see it as it happens, the way Hannibal's face changes, how he fights to keep his eyes open as his climax closes over him, dragging him under, the expression splitting across Hannibal's face the most exquisite thing Will's ever seen.
Will feels the burst of Hannibal's come flooding into him with a pooling of heat, an added slickness, a stuttering of Hannibal's hips, and he barely has a chance to take a breath before his own orgasm is pulled out of him, his cock spasming between his and Hannibal's palms, his body clenching down around Hannibal's own, still twitching member. Will's vision flares white like a flash of light, then cascades into black blotches, his every muscle strung and shaking, Distantly he hears his own voice, the heavy gasps of his breath and the low, rough shouts of pleasure. The arm around Hannibal's neck clings tightly as he starts to sag, exhausted, sated, lost in a sea of overwhelming satisfaction, unable and unwilling to let go.